


The Sky, The Ocean And Them

by Tyranno



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel Advent Calendar 2013, Fluff, M/M, Pirates AU, soft fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-04-02 21:47:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4074982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tyranno/pseuds/Tyranno
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a prisoner aboard Dean's vessel who is several inches and a pair of eyes closer to god.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sky, The Ocean And Them

It was the driving, incessant sort of rain, the sort that growled and poun **d** ed heavy paws against the sails, whipped and cracked against the boat and whoever unlucky enough to be caught on it. The sky roared with their hatred for the sea and the sea writhed and clawed with its hatred for the sky. Sailors struggled past as quickly as they dared; deck slick and shuddering.

 

Underneath, in the bowels of the ship it was dryer, but the icy creeping cold chilled the air, burning straight to the bones of men. They clustered in huddles in hammocks, trying desperately to preserve heat. Lanterns swung and bumped against the wood, shadows darkened and danced.

 

Deeper still, buried in the underbelly of the boat, light was scarce and shimmered, shapes disfigured and twisted in the unluckiest of men’s eyes, the prisoners. And, of course, their guard.

 

The walls groaned and creaked, shuddered as the sea tossed them aside, Dean half expected the sea to smash through the speckled wood, although he trusted his father’s handiwork, storms still gave him the heebie-jeebies.

 

This batch of prisoners were pirates, he mused. Dean _always_ got stuck with the pirates. Not even the most entertaining bunch, more’s the pity.

 

But there was one pirate in particular that Dean had managed to entertain his dwindling attention. This prisoner wasn’t a pirate. Or, at least, wasn’t a real pirate. No _real_ pirate wore full sleeves and rolling flower motifs and a tall, broad hat with a wide brim, no real pirate wore anything other than a loose shirt and trousers. No pirate’s got time to be a fashionista. Especially not on their way to the _gallows_.

 

And Dean had been on the boat since before he could walk, no pirate had—scratch that, no _prisoner_ , had travelled with that expression either. Sure, he’d seen a range, but everything was filed somewhere between wide-eyed screaming and beaten-in indifference. Nobody in their right mind would look _bemused_.

 

Dean spent long minuets staring at the guy, reaching two conclusions time and time again. One, he was a lunatic, a complete nut case. Two, he was a dullard who didn’t know what was happening. Both explained his expression, but neither explained his getup. Even if he was some fancy-pansy rich-boy, if whatever he’d done had warranted him death they’d do the whole shebang for him just as for everyone else. They’d strip him of his honour and throw him in their dankest cell at mercy to the waves, chuck him oats like cattle and ignore his pleas.

 

Dean sighed. He’d let his curiosity win this time. “What’re you?”

 

The prisoner blinked and looked at him and for a moment his eyes caught Dean’s lantern and— _holy shit_ —they were the bluest things he’d seen in his life, inhumanly, unearthly, fantastically, chillingly blue. But the shadow returned over his eyes and the lantern flickered and in the griminess of the low light they were impossible to make out. Whatever. The prisoner’s expression was of mild concern, what Dean could see of it. Maybe he _was_ a dullard. “I’m human.”

 

Yep, dullard. Dean laughed. “No, I meant—what’s your name?”

 

“Castiel?” He asked, the slightly fringe of a question barely audible.

 

“Huh. Castiel’s a pretty good name. You rich, then?”

 

“I think not... well, not anymore.” Castiel tilted his head slightly. “You’re Dean.”

 

Dean was confused for a second but—“Ah! You heard my father calling me earlier, didn’t you?”

 

“...of course.” Castiel nodded slightly.

 

“So, then, Cas, why’ve you ended up down here?”

 

“I betrayed my family.”

 

A moment with nothing but rain.

 

Then Dean whistled through his teeth. “Whoa.”

 

Castiel looked at him dead on and Dean found it difficult to believe he could be a dullard _or_ a lunatic, not with eyes that unnaturally focused. Dean closed his own and gave his head a wee shake, laughing a little.

 

“Did something bad, did they?” Dean laughed a little, more out of nervousness than humour.

 

Castiel’s lips parted, and then closed and nodded. “They—”

 

The entire boat exploded with water, tremendous ripping scream of wood, shouts and yells as the water poured in from all sides, engulfing shaking limbs. Dean stood, unable to move as his nightmare came to a head, water swallowing him up, froth spinning around him, Castiel was against the bars waving for Dean to—Dean to—

 

Dean heard the crack before he felt it, stars splotched out his vision, he stumbled into life, doubling over a table, coughing. Castiel yelled at him, something he couldn’t hear but he guessed. He threw him the keys, noise blotting out in his ears, blackness swimming and swirling his vision like a pool of—a pool of—

_Water_.

****

 

Dean’s eyes felt gummed up and he didn’t really want to open them, no matter how many assholes shinned that stupidly bright lights in his eyes. The sea was unusually loud and his back was sore against the wood beneath him. Which meant some bitch had gone and dragged him on deck to wake him up, huh, he swore to god if it took that much to wake him up he was going to set a world fucking record for laziest son’f-abitch if it killed him. He’d sleep all day if he wanted. So there.

 

“Dean.” Said a voice he didn’t recognise. Oh, god, it was one of the newbies, he hated those. At least this one wasn’t whiny, it was sort of smooth, but it was urgent and persistent, like a fly, so he was going to leave the dude to himself, oh yes. Was it a dude? It sounded pretty. Uh, he was hungry. Wait, what? He was soo thirsty. How long—OW!

 

Dean’s eyes would’ve flown open if they could but they stuck together and as it was he jerked backwards and plunged into the icy-cold sea. He broke the surface with all the grace of a duck and all the anger of a wolverine. “WHAT THE F—” Oh wait, sea? He treaded water and took a glance around. Sea stretched on forever, the only notable thing consistent was to the north a retreating black fuzz of a storm, spider webs of lighting skittered across the horizon.

 

“What, the, fuck.” He said.

 

The fancy-pansy guy who’d rudely awoken him shrugged. “You were drowning, and you let me free so I thought I’d do the same.”

 

The fancy-pansy guy wasn’t such a diva anymore, he’d lost everything aside from his undershirt and his linen breeches. Without his hat, his eyes were bluer than the sky behind them. Straggling flicks of a black hair were plastered to his forehead were they weren’t plastered to the curve of his skull. Hell, he might’ve looked normal if it wasn’t for his weirdass eyes. And what was his name again? Cash—caseal—cashy—

 

“Castiel.” The fancy-pansy guy said. The guy blinked a little fast, and then his indifferent expression returned. “That is your name isn’t it?”

 

Dean narrowed his eyes. “Umm, no, my name’s Dean... Isn’t your name Castiel...?”

 

“Oh, yes, that is true.” Castiel said, looking with a slightly concerned expression at opposite direction to the storm, his head turned.

 

Dean sighed and pulled himself onto the... table? The table that Castiel was using as a raft.

 

“So what happened to Mary?” Dean asked, even though he knew the answer.

 

“Mary? I’m sorry I do not know any of the fem—”

 

“The ship, Cas. The ship.”

 

“It’s sunk, Dean.”

 

“Oh.” Dean said, unsure. “She sunk.”

 

“Who?” Castiel asked.

 

“The ship.”

 

A pause. “Why did you refer to it as a female?”

 

“Uh, it’s just something you do, Cas.”

 

“Oh.”

 

The sea made unusually gentle sounds, as if was forgiving the sky. In return, the sun shone warmly and gently back, clouds were numerous but sparsely spread to warm, not to bake, the sea. Dean sighed, he wouldn’t make it to land in silence at sea, he’d go crazy. “So, Cas, got anyone special in your life?”

“Not really.” Castiel tilted his head, his unsettling eyes burned into Dean’s.

 

Dean swallowed, feeling slightly weighted by Castiel’s gaze. “No girl then?”

 

“No.”

 

“No friends?”

 

“Some. Maybe.”

 

“Oh.” Dean sighed. Castiel was _awful_ at small talk. This was going to be a long aimless float. Which reminded him. “Where’re we going?”

 

“We are joining a pirate ship.”

 

“Ooof course we are.” Dean shook water out of his hair.

 

“Do you have... family?” Castiel asked awkwardly.

 

“Me? Well, yeah. But they—” Deans eyes widened and he caught Castiel by the shoulders, staring right at him. “Cas, did you see my father? Sam?! Did you see them!?”

 

“Dean, It was dark, I don’t—”

 

“Cas did you see them!!” Dean almost yelled.

 

“...yes I saw them.” Castiel lied, smoothly. He didn’t even know what they looked like.

 

“They got off alright?” Dean said, calming, most of the worry was only a tinge now, if persistent.

 

“Yes, but Dean...” Castiel glanced upwards. He hated lying. “...they headed the other way. They must be... a very long way away now. And, we cannot change our course.”

 

“That’s okay, I’ll find them.” Dean said, smirking, a lot happier and relieved. “So why’d you want to join a pirate ship all of a sudden? Got one in mind?”

 

“Yes. I have been aboard before, do not worry.” Castiel said mildly.

 

“I thought you weren’t a pirate?” Dean asked, frowning slightly.

 

“No... I am not and have never been a pirate.” Castiel said, tilting his head.

 

“So... you were captured and held to ransom, then?” Dean asked.

 

“No... They are... I know them.”

 

“So,” Dean said, slightly confused, “They’re friends of yours?”

 

“I don’t know.” Castiel said, straightening up.

 

Dean sighed and leant back on a leg of the table. The sea was so much... smaller close up. It was weird, it seemed to dangerous and huge and deadly all the way down in the greenish shadows the boat cast, but close up... it was just water. Just flowing, murmuring water, slapping against the darkened, notched wood. Don’t let Davy Jones hear him say that, though.

 

Silence Castiel seemed happy with, but it didn’t sit right with Dean. Even in the boat’s stomach with no prisoners to talk to, the creaks and groans of the boat and the muffled laughter was often enough to settle him, but with nothing but the quiet ocean it wasn’t quite the same. He sighed, melodramatically. It was going to be a long ride.

 

****

 

Dean thinks he can see fish underneath the waves. God, he’s so hungry. And thirsty. His throat felt raw and his belly felt like all the other organs had been pushed aside to make up for how hugely enormously empty he was. It was too much. He let out a low growl. Ugh, oh god. It was too much. He felt like shit. “I don’t suppose you have any food?” He asked hopefully.

 

“I do not.” Castiel admitted mildly.

 

Dean leant his head on the uncomfortable, crusty table bottom. His head still felt fuzzy and he felt like he was about to start hallucinating. He groaned. Why did the sea have to be so goddamn huge? Like, could you only have a small lake-like thingy to give people an idea of how huge and pointless and dangerous and awful a huge, massive ocean would be and oh, aren’t we glad it’s not on this planet for fuck’s sake.

 

No, it’s got to be huge.

 

Why, god?

 

Do tell.

 

****

 

Dean felt a little delirious, and his mouth was so dry, but somehow he thought it was a good idea to keep talking. “I got a brother, y’know.”

 

“I know, Dean, you said.” Castiel replied, quaintly. “He has a wife called Jess and a boy called Bobby, after the sea captain who previously owned SS. Hunt, rechristened SS. Mary. Your brother Sam is a lawyer.”

 

“Dam’ f’ckin’ right ’e’s a lawyer, he’s s’ch a nerd. ’N he’s got a wife too, ’n a kid, wife’s a cutie too.”

 

“You said.”

 

“Sh’ call Jess.”

 

“Yes, Dean.”

 

“Kid’s call... call’d Bobby, ’fter y’know, Bobby.”

 

“I remember.”

 

“I want’d to be sea c’ptain too.”

 

Castiel raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

 

“S’ sweet job.”

 

Cas sighed. “Go to sleep, Dean.”

 

“M’kay.” Even though the ocean was starting to scare him as it grew darker, Castiel probably knew best in this situation.

 

****

 

Dean’s eyes were half-lidded and all he saw was blurred but slowed down, smudges and blobs of colour. Mainly blue. Not, sea blue, uh, sky blue. But it was November?

 

Cas was talking, talking, talking, blah, blah, blah. He was worse than Sam. Except Sam seemed to actually say words, all of Cas’s was just murmurs of… y’know… sounds and stuff. Like, it was, a, a different, uh, language. Yeah. But it didn’t sound like any, any language he’d…

 

He was suddenly scared, or at least, worried in a ma.. manly way. It was darkish, and loud, and he wished Cas’d… put him down. A loud thumping painful, feeling thundered through his head and reverberated inside his skull. He let out a little murmur of a little manly whimper

 

Cas’s voice grew louder and a hand supported his head and Dean felt like they were throwing him around, he opened his mouth to tell them to knock it off but it was suddenly full of rum and he coughed and spluttered trying to get himself heard, but there was a soft whisper of Cas’s voice and he felt he might as… he might as…

 

****

 

 

Dean’s eyes prised open, and for the second time in not-long he wasn’t met by anything familiar. Oh, don’t get him wrong, the creak and soft murmur of the muffled waves, the muffled shells of light from lanterns on polished wood and it _smelt_ like home, but... there wasn’t any home anymore. He groaned. The wood was too dark and too close.

 

“You’re awake?”

 

Dean turned, his head swimming and his vision fizzed. He smiled with dry lips. “Hey, Cas.”

 

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel said.

 

“Why—where are we?” Dean asked, trying to sit up, but Castiel put a warm hand on his chest and gently pushed him down.

 

“Lie, you’re not well enough for that.”

 

“Wh—”

 

“We’re on the pirate ship I mentioned, remember? Drink, you’re dehydrated, your urine is still not clear.”

 

“My— _what_?” Dean asked, but Castiel passed him a wooden mug of cold tea and God almighty it was like Jesus himself came down from heaven and poured holy distilled elixir of life down his throat. He guzzled it down, not even minding Castiel had to keep a hand on the mug and it ran all down his face it was so _good._

 

He didn’t quite want to believe it when it was empty, he fell back on the bed. God, these were silk sheets! It was so unfair.

 

Castiel poured another cup of cold tea from a disgustingly fancy pot with all swirls and… _ugh_. He felt like he’d been drugged. Or what he imagined being drugged felt like. He felt like his brain had been replace by cotton wool. And his eyes. And his arms. His whole body felt lagged and heavy, like it was someone else’s.

 

“Go to sleep, Dean. You’re not well.”

 

Dean grumbled something profane, but he was already drifting off.

 

****

 

“Dean.”

 

Dean smiled, the smallest prickled of warmth in his stomach. “Hi, Cas.”

 

“I’m offended, I don’t sound that much like a man, do I?”

 

Dean was confused. With effort, he turned. A relatively pretty brood with the reddist hair he’d ever seen slumped on Cas’s chair. “Hi,” He said.

 

“Hi. I’m Charlie.” She said shrugging her shoulders lightly. He’d heard of female pirates before—hell, one of his dad’s friends had been killed by one. Magin? Migan? Something with M’s.

 

“Hi.” Dean said again, feeling stupid and heat rising to his face, his eyes flickering over her. Her arms were rather unmuscled and her dress looked rather impractical and common for a pirate. His eyes flicked back to hers. She seemed pretty decent and kind-ish from what he could tell. But so did some of the prisoners.

 

Charlie laughed. “I’m sorry, I’m homosexual.”

 

Dean stared his mouth opened a little. “But that’s a—”

 

“—sin, yeah, thanks for telling me that, I’ll definitely fancy guys from now on, I swear.” She smiled.

 

“Aren’t you—”

 

“Dean, I’m a pirate. A _female_ pirate. There’s not much lower I can go.” She shrugged, looking a little tired. She looked at the wall, and then her eyes darted back to Dean. “Did Cas tell you?”

 

“Tell me… what exactly.” Dean’s eyes tried to narrow but they stung so he kept them open.

 

“Uh, Dean you’re a pirate.” Charlie said awkwardly.

 

“What!” Dean sat straight up, something he regretted immediately, feeling like he’d smashed his head as hard as he could onto thick marble, sharp knives of pain slashed at his skull, his vision fizzed and the world swayed. He cradled his head in his cupped hands, groaning a little. Charlie gently set him in the bed again, tucking him in and handing him another mug of cold tea.

 

“Dean,” Charlie said, gently moving Dean’s head as it turned from the mug, “Dean, Dean you’ve got to drink some, for god’s sake.”

 

“…no… No! No, tell m—” Dean coughed up the tea as it ran down his throat. “Wh… why’m I a pirate? That—”

 

“Did you really think me ’n Kev would have survive this as long as we have by letting one of the _king’s_ sailors on board without doing _something_ to ensure our safety. And hey, the other option was to lock you up in shackles. It was only ’cause of Cas that we didn’t leave you to drown. And hey, you didn’t even feel the brand.”

 

Dean swallowed, and although his eyes were getting heavy already, and he felt like he had run a million miles, his mind whirled. Pirate. _Pirate._ He’d watched a million hangings, he’d seen everything, public executions, he’d been transporting them in shedloads all his life. His only respite was that they were _monsters_.

 

But now he was, he didn’t feel different, but he was a whole different person.

 

Dean Winchester, the _pirate_.

 

What would his father say? Nothing he’d just… just…

 

Charlie softened when she saw Dean’s expression. “Look, Dean it’s not so bad! Look at me, look at Cas! I’m not saying change your views, but, y’know, look on the bright side!”

 

Dean sighed, deep and rough; and his aching eyes closed. He almost hoped they would never open.

 

****

 

When Dean Winchester, the pirate, opened his eyes again sticky and gummed, yet another person sat on the chair. But this one sat cautiously, on the very edge. The chair was scooted back, and the man’s gaze was wary and narrowed. He thrust the mug of (…rum this time?) at Dean.

 

Dean, thankful for lack of harrowing conversation drank it quickly and grunted as it burnt a trail down his dry throat. He went to hand it back, just as the door swung shut. The man was gone. Dean sighed and stretched out to put the mug on the chair, but slash of pain hit his heavy arm and the cup tumbled out of his hands. He growled lowly and hoisted himself up with a grunt of exertion he half crawled half wriggled towards the mug.

 

Moving on his elbows, he reached out his fingers but his arm stretched and it felt like his back had been torn open. He collapsed on the ground, hissing.

 

Strong arms lifted him up and he groaned with annoyance and a small amount of thankfulness. Cas settled him on the bed again, and in return Dean made a weird noise, like a dog being kicked.

 

Cas picked up the mug and placed it on the fancy pansy dresser with a small laugh but then a worried expression took over. “Are you alright, Dean?”

 

Dean made another noise, this one of defeat.

 

“I understand you were not happy with my changing of your profession.”

 

Dean looked at him.

 

“I’m sorry Dean, but they were going to kill you.”

 

“Should’ve let them.” Dean said grumpily, but when he saw the expression on Cas’s face it softened. “Look, I’m sorry, thanks for saving me, it’s just all a bit sudden.”

 

“I understand, Dean.” Cas sighed. “I will visit you later. With tea.”

 

Dean would have glared, but he was too tired. Instead he blinked, slowly, like a lazy fox, and closed his eyes.

 

****

 

It was dark, and he was being stirred awake from a dreamless sleep. The air around was biting cold, and Dean wasn’t exactly happy. Cas murmured something but he didn’t hear, he was too busy being grumpy. The cabin was dark and the lanterns seemed far brighter, the shadows hung like cobwebs in the corners.

 

“Dean. Dean, wake up.” Castiel said softly, and Dean grunted with annoyance.

 

“Dean, do you want to… go outside?” Castiel asked gently.

 

Dean’s eyes opened wide and then he blinked surprise from his features. “Um, yeah, if you want to.”

 

Castiel nodded and heaved Dean out of bed, wrapping blankets around the trembling man, who grudgingly accepted them, pulling them around him like shawl. Dean’s trembling cold feet brushed and bumped against the floor, the icy numbness of the night burnt against his skin. It was not a pleasant feeling. He stumbled forwards, leaning heavily against Cas, whose warmth seeped through everything like a halo around him, as if Dean were walking beside a lit fireplace.

 

The air outside was no warmer, but it was definitely fresher. The boat was not small, but it was unassuming, no huge black sails or dead men on pikes or blood stained hulls. It just looked like a worn down trading ship.

 

Castiel helped him towards the side and he let out a breath. The sky was like it always was, it was just the same. A canopy of silk, a halo of darkest blue around darkest black. Stars like white fireflies studded the sky, a frozen procession for the plain, simpering sea. What light there was hit their backs and lit up specks of dust like sparks in the air.

 

But in moments like this, in days, weeks, lifetimes like this, it really was possible to imagine the sea went on forever.

 

Dean hand trembled on the side of the boat, and Castiel pressed a hand over it to stop it shivering. Goosebumps sprang up in a wave up his arm, Cas was so fucking hot. Wait—… Dean sighed shakily, his whole body feeling like chill had stripped him to the bone, he was shuddering like a tree in a storm, and Cas was just there…

 

Dean leaned against him and warmth coursed through his system. His head fell on Cas’s shoulder with a contented sigh. Why not? He was a pirate.

 

Cas pressed his nose into Dean’s hair, softly.

 

He was pirate. He was.... ’s a…

 

Dean’s eyes struggled to stay open.

 

“Joyous Christmas, Dean.” Castiel said softly. Dean said something vaguely profane in reply.

 

Castiel laughed and looked down, but Dean was already asleep.


End file.
